Who or what...?
by Paige42
Summary: It's the new millennium, and a young woman is disturbed by images and dreams of strange men and other worlds. (Possible series)


TITLE: Who or what...?   
AUTHOR: Sam (Lestrade42@aol.com)  
RATING: PG  
FEEDBACK: You betcha. It boosts my self confidence... Oh no! I dropped it! Ack! Nobody move! Geez, it's so tiny. Hmm.. maybe it rolled under the couch...  
DISCLAIMER: I own everyone except "The Men" mentioned. They belong to the BBC.  
  
For Karen, Greg and Matonis for breathing life into this idea years ago during the Role-plays and endless, mind bending discussions about all things Whovian and also vampire crack squirrels.  
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To no one in particular,  
  
I always knew I was different. I wasn't like other adults I knew. Didn't expect that, did you? No, most of the time you hear 'I wasn't like other kids'. Not me. I'm not like other adults. I never really understood what it was or why. It just sat there in the back of my mind, kinda like a line from a movie that you know in your gut you've seen a million times, yet for the life of you you can't remember what movie it comes from. Melia, my housekeeper (and, to be honest, one of my only friends) told me to pay it no mind. She says I'm creative.  
  
Whatever.  
  
What I am is crazy. I know it, Melia knows it... And now most of everyone in this part Philadelphia knows it. I mean, look at my library. It's full to the rafters with journals and sketchbooks. I spend all my time writing, drawing. It's never done. I always have something in my mind that needs to get out. A story here, a picture there.   
  
I wasn't always like this. I used to be... well, I can't say normal. But I used to be not so different. It started the night before New Years Eve, 1999. I had just had dinner and was sitting in my library working on my lesson plan for the second school semester. Did I mention I used to be a school teacher? No, I see not. My mind wandering again... Well, to back track a bit, I was a school teacher before my madness. I taught high school art. I was on the board of the school newspaper. I was even the director for the plays. Forward again... in the library working on the plans...  
  
It was just after one o'clock when it happened. I felt something in my mind. An... itching is the best way to describe it. Like someone who knew my secrets was looking for me. But then it was followed by pain. A horrible headache, one of the worst I can remember. I couldn't think anymore, so I abandoned my work and went to get a painkiller.   
  
Melia was, as usual, right there when I needed her. I had barely finished opening the door when she was asking me if I was okay. Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She couldn't be more than a year older than me, but she's odd in her own way. She has a light in her eyes that spoke of years of experiences and knowledge... Ah, off on yet another tangent.   
  
Anyway, I told her about the headache and made my way to the kitchen. Melia beat me there and had two pills and a glass of water ready for me. When I asked her what they were she replied, "An old family remedy." I told her that, for once, I would like to take something stronger, like an aspirin. For some reason, she visibly blanched. I guess she thought I was insulting her family remedies. I took the pills and mentioned nothing.  
  
The ache in my skull did lessen. But it was replaced by... a nothing. Like an emptiness. Almost as if my brain had taken a vacation and forgot to tell my body. I wandered to bed at 1:30 hoping I would sort myself out by morning.   
  
At 4:15 I bolted out of a sound sleep. My brain had returned from vacation making a hell of a noise while coming back in. I don't what it was that woke me. It was like electricity. I wandered down stairs and made myself a cup of tea. For some reason I wanted to take it outside. I stood on the back porch with my tea just staring at the sky. Did the sky look different? It looked larger. I cold imagine myself flying among the stars, traveling to different worlds, meeting aliens. I looked down and realized my tea was cold. I had been outside for over an hour. I laid back in my bed, waiting to welcome a new millennium.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I awoke the next morning knowing something was off. The head ache had returned, but not with the ferocity it had last night. Melia was breaking out the streamers, noise makers and champagne. But all I could do was stare at the sky. I would catch myself, then go back to my lesson plans. Then it would happen again. After awhile, I didn't stop myself. My mind wandered all day, not about anything in particular, just small things. The kids I taught, and at times, the adults I taught. Melia appeared at my elbow and asked about dinner. I joined her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Melia loved making all the preparations. It was just the two of us, as usual, but she insisted that we ring in the new millennium right. I, of course, reminded her that the millennium didn't start until 2001, but she would hear none of it. I smiled and went to my room to put on the gown she had gotten me for Christmas.   
  
The big clock in the hall struck 12:00 and noise filled the air. Song and bells rang out over the neighborhood. A group of kids next door ran through the streets banging on pots. I heard one of the girls screaming, "I just got engaged! He proposed!" It was a wonderful time. Melia handed me a glass of champagne and we toasted a New Year.  
  
She went to bed at 2:00. I decided to look at my starry sky again. Maybe it was all in my mind. Everything looked fine. And Y2K hadn't blown the world to bits I smiled to myself. I decided to call it a night and headed upstairs to bed. Then the big clock in the hall struck 3:00...  
  
And the madness started.  
  
A pain I will never be able to describe ripped through my whole body. Nothing worked. I screwed my eyes shut as tears poured out of the corners. A scream erupted from my throat, a sound I never knew I could make. I fell to the ground, every nerve in body screaming. I don't how long it lasted or what happened. Melia was shaking me awake. My whole body still ached as if I'd just gotten off the rack. Something told me not to open my eyes. I wouldn't see anything. It was over. The world had ended. I opened an eye...  
  
Everything was wrong. The colors were wrong, the walls were wrong, Melia.. even Melia looked wrong. We should be dead. This isn't right. It shouldn't be here. Everything is wrong, wrong, wrongwrongwrongwrong.....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
And so I started my decent into madness. For the first week all I did was sit in a corner and rock. Finally I snapped out of it, who knows why really. I found myself wondering about my life before. I looked over every corner and inch of the house. Do you know, I can't find a single picture of myself as a child? And, the odder? I can't remember even BEING a child. Then the dreams started. Only, I was awake. Dreams of The Men. That's all I know of them. they have no name, but others in their tales do. I see their faces as clearly as I see myself in a mirror. So many faces, so many stories. I found myself one day with a scarp of paper and a pencil and started to draw. It was of a gate with the sign 'I.M. Forman'. Since that day, I have not stopped drawing and writing. I write their story, the story of The Men. But, is it really Men or just Man? They are all the same, yet different. And all the people with them. The first one, the old man. Then, the little goof who played a pipe. After him came the gentleman who wore lace. Fourth, the curly haired one. He was interesting. Next, the young blond. He had eyes that you could drowned in. Then, the sixth one. What a horrible taste in clothes! But, he had a caring heart. After him came the other little man. He knew alot more than he was letting on. Finally, the eight one. Auburn curly hair. So sweet and innocent...  
  
So here I am, sitting in my library surrounded by the stories of The Men. How many books were there? A hundred? Two hundred? Perhaps five? Who knows. It's been nine months since my madness began. I quit my job at the school. I barely go outside. I spend all my time writing their stories. I have so many to tell about him. Odd, I have none to tell about myself, save this.   
  
I feel there is something different about me, not just in my mind. I don't eat as much as I used to. And here is something even Melia doesn't know... I no longer sleep. Lying, you say? No, I wish to God I were. I have not slept in nine months. I simply write. Why don't I stop, you ask? I don't know. Somehow I know that soon the story will turn to include me. then I shall learn of the things I have forgotten. If not... then I'm sure a rubber room and a white jacket await me.  
  
Until then, I remain ever faithfully yours,  
  
Jade  
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